The Second Little Wagstaff
I know it's an old cliche but doesn't time fly?! I am sure Jack was only born last week but he is now hurtling towards three months old. Paradoxically I can hardly imagine a time in our family without him. Jack is our second child and second son who, like his brother 22 months older than him, was born in the best place possible - our home.
I guess most people who have a birth that goes "well" would say that it was a magical experience. I bet not many (in climates like Christchurch's or similar) could say that they laboured while snow fell steadily outside the window and that by the time their child was born there was perhaps 20 cm of white magic draped over the midwife's car. And then there is that special hushed silence that comes with a snowy night like that. It seemed as though the earth was holding its breath as I gave birth.
Jack was born in the early hours of 5"' July 2003, five days before his due date after a trouble-free pregnancy. I had had nearly two days of mild labour, nothing unbearable but I caused a stir at my husband's work when I called him on the mobile at about midday on Thursday to say that although I didn't think he should come home, I had been having contractions for several hours. Ian did eventually come home earlier than planned from a teacher-parent evening later that day, but labour had not really stepped up a level since lunch. We went to bed that evening but during the night I was back up thinking that finally labour might be establishing for real. No luck - after a few hours I went back to bed and back to sleep. Ian took the day off on the Friday (the last day of term - he is a school teacher) and despite cold grey weather we went out for a walk mid-morning to see what would happen. I had been having tightenings up to three minutes apart but not painful, for hours. On our walk they closed in to two minutes apart but I could keep walking through them.
Once we returned home things seemed to calm down again and we spent a frustrating day waiting expectantly for this baby to start coming for real. I had been in touch with Jacqui, my midwife, a few times during the day to keep her up-to-date with progress and as the weather turned worse later that afternoon and snow started to fall contractions increased somewhat. By 5:30, we decided that it was probably a good idea for Jacqui to come over even if just to ensure her presence in light of the snow that was collecting on our lawn and the surrounding roads. And so by 6:30pm Jacqui arrived and sat down to a bowl of homemade stew and potatoes - a perfect snowy night's meal!
At seven pm Ian took 22 month old Ben off to bed and my contractions predictably increased - but only slightly and not as much as I wanted them to! It must be the only time in my life I have willed pain to arrive.
I was now beginning to feel rather bored and frustrated. I just wanted things to get moving so we decided to try out some homeopathic remedies and at 8:30 I asked Jacqui to examine me so we could hopefully get a picture of what was happening. I was about 3cm dilated-not great but at least some thing was working. Ian lay down to have a rest and I decided to have a bath. I didn't really find it relaxing - I know a lot of women find water great when they are in labour but it doesn't seem to do anything for me. I felt a fair bit of pressure in my pelvis and very loose but what was this baby up to!?. I sprinted up and down our stairs a few times to see what would happen.
By l0pm I had had enough. I came downstairs to the living room to join my mother and Jacqui and to complain about my lack of progress when BANG a major contraction hit me. HERE WE GO! After a few of these spent rocking against the kitchen bench I needed to head back to the haven of our bedroom the room where our first child, now sleeping peaceful in the room next door, had been born nearly two years earlier. The contractions came on strong and about three to four minutes apart but I felt great. At last I could start working. It wasn't long though before I was calling out for the "homebirth epidural" - those hot towels are like a cold drink washing over a sore throat! They don't take that away the pain but they soothe. I watched the snow falling on our garage roof through an opening in the bedroom curtains. Draped over the back of a sofa I looked forward to each wave of pain - I felt like a warrior.
That's the thing about the pain of labour. I read some where once that it is yours, you own it. It hurts but it's a positive pain in a strange sort of way. It's a sign that your baby is coming. It's a useful pain and an empowering one. Does that make sense to anyone?
Anyway I wasn't the only one watching the snow. Jacqui soon decided that it was a good idea to call the second midwife, Juliet, as her drive would certainly take longer and everything was happening quicker now. Within an hour she arrived and I can still remember that at this stage I could talk in-between contractions - although I don't remember what we talked about! It wasn't long after Juliet's arrival that the volume and strength of my contractions turned up a big notch - should have called her earlier instead of trying all those other things to bring on labour! Things felt harder now. I didn't feel like much a warrior anymore. Ian supported me and helped with hot towels. It was obvious that he felt more confident with the birth process second time around. I really would struggle to do it without his presence. It kept me calm and feeling safe. Mean while Jacqui and Juliet did what great midwives do: encouraged, nurtured, watched and listened. Wow what a team!!!
Then quite suddenly something instinctively told me to push. Not an over whelming feeling, nothing definite just that it was time. As I did my waters finally broke with a gush. This time, in comparison to my first son's birth pushing felt good - not pain free, still god-dam-hard but his movement was quicker and sure enough within 10 minutes a baby slipped from between my legs and into Jacqui's warm hands. He cried that newborn cry and was passed through to Ian and I to admire. Wow, we did it!
The miracle had happened to us again! That moment where one becomes two is indescribable and even now sitting down at my computer nearly 12 weeks later I feel every cell in my body tingle with the loose memory that remains. Wish I could bottle that moment forever!
Another beautiful boy. Heavier than his brother at 3.3kg and his head less squished as I guess 10 minutes of pushing rather than 1 '/2 hours would be easier on one's skull bones. We decided to call him Jack (after two great grandfathers) and he seems happy with our choice. And boy, isn't it true that they bring love with them - within seconds I am totally infatuated and a new love affair begins!
My mother, who had been waiting anxiously in the living room with the cats, not wanting to see her own child in pain, came in to meet her second grandson and Ian went downstairs quickly to grab a beer! Then Ian (beer put aside) cut the cord that linked Jack to me for so long - I guess from here on in it's a slow and gradual process of letting go. About twenty minutes later the placenta was delivered normally and after that I felt much more comfortable but was dying for a shower. Four little stitches later and I was relaxing under streams of hot water and feeling very smug about my/our accomplishment. Ready to do it again.....almost!
Published in Birthplace Magazine, October 2003.
Last updated 19 March 2009.